The mist was covering most parts of the hills. The hills peeking through.

The winding roads were perfect for riding. The best part though was the ride up the hills at night.
The guest house was a 2 bed cottage, forced to accommodate 10 guys.

When you look back through the sands of time, we see our foot prints trailing behind us, reminding us where we came from. The winds may be slowly erasing them away, and the haze maybe growing every day and every hour. Yet, you see several things when you look back. I too see several things. Random, they might seem to you, but powerful they are to me. This is my chronicle. Past, present, future.
1 comment:
nice...... :)
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